#i used to watch my dad play it all the time

[harrysfolklore]

i don't like red - lh44

summary: alana hamilton is excited to see her dad racing again. however, she’s not a big fan of his new team’s color wc: 1.3k

read the bestest fist :)

folkie radio: F1 IS BACK BABYYYYY, honestly i love writing dad!lewis and this idea popped in my heard a while ago and i just had to write it ! hope you like this, we all need some comfort about that race

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Alana Hamilton is a clever child, with a growing interest in the world her father is part of. At just five years old, she knows with unwavering certainty that her daddy is the best driver in the world. His number is 44, a fact she proudly recites to anyone who'll listen, and he drives a sleek black and teal car that matches his racing suit.

For Alana, race weekends are magical. They mean hanging out with her beloved uncles Toto and Bono, watching Georgie drive alongside her daddy, and sometimes playing with her little friend Jack.

The paddock has become a second home, its sights, sounds, and faces as familiar to her as her own bedroom. So when the first race of the 2025 season arrives and you lead her towards a different part of the paddock than she's used to, confusion clouds her bright eyes.

The sea of red before her is a stark contrast to the silver and teal she expects, and Alana's little hand tightens in yours as she looks up at you, confusion clear on her face.

"Mommy, where are we going?" Alana asks, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Daddy's garage is the other way." She points towards the familiar Mercedes area, her brow furrowed in confusion.

You squeeze her hand gently, trying to find the right words to explain. "Remember how we talked about Daddy driving for a new team this year? We're going to his new garage."

As you finally approach the Ferrari garage, Alana is even more confused when she fails to spot any familiar faces, "Mommy where is Uncle Toto and Uncle Bono? And Georgie? Is Carmen here? I want her to paint my nails like last time."

Before you can reply to Alana's barrage of questions, a familiar voice calls out, "There's my little champion!"

Alana's head whips around, her face lighting up as she spots Lewis. "Daddy!" she exclaims, breaking free from your hand and running towards him. Lewis scoops her up, planting a kiss on her cheek.

Alana giggles, but then pulled back, her tiny hands on either side of Lewis's face as she examines him seriously. "Daddy, why are you wearing red? Did you spill pasta sauce on your racing pajamas?"

Lewis chuckles, exchanging an amused glance with you. "No, sweetheart. Remember how we talked about Daddy driving for a new team? This is my new team's color."

"But I like the silver car," Alana's lower lip transforms into a pout. "Can't you paint this one silver?"

"I'm afraid not, princess," Lewis says gently. "But you know what? Red is a very fast color. And look," he points to his race suit, "my number 44 is still here. Some things don't change."

"But I don't like red," Alana insists, "I like silver."

Lewis put Alana down, crouching down at her level, "I know it's a big change, sweetheart," Lewis says softly. "But sometimes change can be exciting. Want to see the new car? It might be even faster than the old one."

Before Alana can respond, Charles Leclerc approaches, a warm smile on his face. He crouches down next to Lewis, bringing himself to Alana's eye level.

"Hello there!" Charles says cheerfully. "You must be Alana. I'm Charles, your dad's new teammate. It's so nice to finally meet you!"

Alana regards Charles with curiosity, but there's still confusion in her eyes. She looks back at Lewis, then to Charles, and then around the garage again.

"Do you know where Georgie is?" she asks Charles, her voice small but determined. "My daddy always drives with Georgie."

Charles' smile softens with understanding. "George is still with the other team, Alana. But I'm here to be your dad's new teammate. Maybe we could be friends too?"

Alana doesn't respond immediately, her gaze drifting back to the unfamiliar red surroundings. "I don't like red," she repeats, more to herself than anyone else.

Sensing the need for a distraction, Charles' face lights up with an idea. "Hey Alana, would you like to meet my dog, Leo? He's here in the garage and loves making new friends."

At the mention of a dog, Alana's eyes widen with interest. "A doggy? Here?"

"Yes! He's very friendly. Would you like to play with him?" he asks, "My girlfriend Alex is here as well, and I bet she'd love to meet you. She said your dress is so pretty."

Alana's interest seems piqued by this,"Really? She likes my dress?"

Charles nods enthusiastically. "Oh yes, she thinks it's beautiful. She'd like to be your friend too. What do you say?"

Alana looks up at you and Lewis, seeking permission. You nod encouragingly, relief washing over you at seeing a spark of happiness in her eyes.

"Go ahead, sweetheart," you say. "Just remember to be gentle with Leo, okay?"

As Charles leads Alana to meet his dog, you feel Lewis' arm slip around your waist. You lean into him, both watching as Alana's giggles begin to fill the air.

"That was... more dramatic than I expected," Lewis murmurs, his voice a mix of relief and lingering concern.

You turn to face him, reaching up to straighten the collar of his race suit. "She's just used to everyone at Mercedes," you reassure him. "She knows them since she was born, it's a big switch but she'll adapt."

Lewis smiles, his eyes softening as he watches Alana play with the dog. "You're right," he kisses your temple softly. "She's smart, just like her mom."

"And stubborn, just like her dad."

Your moment is interrupted by the sound of Alana's delighted laughter. You both turn to see her on the ground, giggling as Leo licks her face. Charles and Alexandra kneeling beside her and engaging with her.

A few minutes later, Alana runs back to you and Lewis, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Mommy, Daddy! I love Leo, he's so fluffy! And Charles is funny, he does silly faces. And Alexandra's dress is so pretty, it has flowers all over it!"

You can't help but smile at her enthusiasm. "That sounds wonderful, sweetheart."

"They're my new friends!" she pauses, her expression becoming slightly more serious. "But can I still say hi to Uncle Toto and Uncle Bono and Georgie later? I miss them."

Lewis smiles at her fondly, touched by the way the team that was a huge part of his life, was a huge part of his little girl's too.

Lewis kneels down, pulling Alana into a hug. "Of course you can, princess. They're still our friends, even if we're on different teams now. And guess what? You'll make even more new friends here too."

"Okay, Daddy," Alana nods, her smile returning. "I don't like red, but I like your new friends."

The adults laugh, making Alana giggle too. Through the day, Alana's initial hesitation about the new team begins to fade as she spends more time in the Ferrari garage. She becomes fascinated by the bustling activity and the shiny red cars. Lewis takes her on a tour, explaining the different parts of the car and introducing her to the mechanics and engineers.

Alana is fascinated to see her dad race again, her eyes wide as she sees the red car fly in the circuit, even when she insists that she doesn't quite like the red.

After the race, you and Lewis hold each of Alana's hands as you walk through the paddock, you spot Toto, Bono, and George near the Mercedes garage and Alana's eyes light up, she tugs on Lewis' hand.

"Daddy, look! It's Uncle Toto and Uncle Bono and Georgie! Can we say hi? Please, please, please?"

Lewis chuckles and nods, leading her over to his former team members. They greet each other warmly, with Alana receiving plenty of hugs and hair ruffles.

"Well, well," Toto says with a grin, crouching down to Alana's level. "If it isn't our favorite Hamilton!"

Alana giggles, but then her face turns serious. "Uncle Toto, I have a very important question."

"Oh? And what's that, sweetheart?"

Alana leans in close, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Do you think we can paint Daddy's new car silver when no one's looking? I don't like red."

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Right Person, Wrong Time

Fandom: Women’s College Basketball, cheer (UConn/USC AU)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x cheerleader!Reader

Rating: Teen (mild language and suggestive themes)

Summary: she was always the right person for you, just needed to let go of a bad one first…

🏷️: @yailtsv , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paige05bby , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld

If there’s one thing I learned from being with Paige Bueckers, it’s that love doesn’t always disappear when things end. Sometimes, it lingers in the background, quietly existing while life pushes you in different directions.

We broke up nearly two years ago, right before college decisions dropped. Me, heading to USC for biology and cheer, and Paige, committed to UConn to chase her basketball dreams. We ended on good terms—mutual understanding, love still present, but timing? Off. And somehow, I never fully left her life.

Her little brother, Drew, still FaceTimes me to play Fortnite. Her dad still invites me on family vacations. And Paige? Well, she’s still… Paige. Calm, collected, and forever nonchalant, making it impossible for anyone to read her. Including my girlfriend, Taylor, who despises the fact that I’m still so intertwined with my ex and her family.

I get it. I’d be insecure too if the person I loved was best friends with their ex. But what Taylor doesn’t get is… Paige and I? We let go of the relationship, but never the bond.

⸻

“Yo, you ready for lab?” Paige’s voice echoes through my phone as I scramble to grab my lab notebook.

“Not really,” I sigh, balancing my phone against my mirror as I tie my hair up. “I was up all night studying. Professor Kim is gonna eat me alive if I mess up this dissection.”

Paige laughs, that soft chuckle that used to be my favorite sound. “You got this, bio nerd. Plus, March Madness is coming up, so you’ll need to be focused when you fly out here to see me kill it in the tourney.”

I grin. “As if I’d miss it.”

Before Paige can respond, Taylor storms into my dorm, eyes glued to her phone.

“Are you serious right now?” she snaps, shoving her screen in my face.

I squint, realizing it’s Paige’s latest Instagram story. A memory from when Drew and I were half-asleep in Paige’s dorm, watching Fast and Furious while Drew practically used me as a body pillow. The caption? “We need to run the late-night movie and cuddle sesh back.” And yes, Paige tagged me. And I reposted it to my story with a simple emoji “😊”

I internally sigh.

“Taylor, it’s not that deep.”

“Not that deep? Your ex is literally reminiscing about cuddling with you. Do you even respect me?”

Before I can speak, Paige’s calm voice cuts through the tension.

“She’s over me, Taylor. You’re the only one making this weird.”

Taylor glares at the phone. “Stay out of this, Bueckers.”

Paige chuckles, completely unfazed. “Gladly. Good luck with your dissection, baby girl.”

She ends the call, leaving me standing there with Taylor fuming.

⸻

I thought that argument would be the end of it. But when Paige’s dad invited me on their family trip to Cabo, I accepted without hesitation.

Taylor was pissed, of course. But something inside me… I needed this break. From her. From the constant accusations. From pretending that Paige wasn’t still my comfort, even if it wasn’t romantic anymore.

Or at least, that’s what I thought.

⸻

“Yo, Y/N, you ready for movie night or what?” Drew grins, tugging on my arm as we head to Paige’s room in the vacation house.

“You sure your sister won’t get annoyed with us taking over her bed again?” I tease.

Drew smirks. “Paige loves it. Trust me.”

We settle into the same spots as four years ago, Fast and Furious playing in the background. Drew’s head rests on my stomach as he slowly drifts off, mumbling sleepily, “I love you and Paige. You two belong together.”

Paige glances at me from the other side of the bed, her expression unreadable. But in that moment, I feel it. That pull. That connection we never really lost.

I don’t fight it.

⸻

When I get back to LA, something feels… off.

Taylor’s been acting strange, barely texting back. My gut tells me something’s wrong. So, I do what any girl with trust issues would do — I show up to her apartment unannounced.

And of course, I catch her. With her “best friend,” the same girl she told me not to worry about.

I don’t even feel heartbroken. Just… done.

I leave without saying a word, texting Paige immediately.

“Pack a bag. I need you in LA.”

⸻

Paige arrives the next day, rocking her UConn hoodie and slides like she owns the place. We hit a party that night with my cheer team, and the moment I spot Taylor across the room, her eyes widen in shock.

Paige smirks. “Time to remind her who you really belong to.”

Before I can process it, Paige’s lips are on mine. Slow. Familiar. And the moment our lips part, I turn to Taylor, who’s practically burning holes through me with her stare.

“Oh,” I say with a sarcastic smile. “By the way… I knew you were cheating this whole time. I just wanted to see how long you’d keep pretending.”

The whole party erupts in “OHHHHHS” as Taylor storms out in embarrassment.

Paige? She just pulls me closer, whispering, “Took you long enough to come back to me.”

⸻

That night, Paige and I are back in my dorm, tangled up in my bed like we never lost time.

“I missed this,” I admit, tracing her jaw with my fingertips.

“Me too,” she murmurs. “You were always my girl, Y/N. We just… needed the universe to catch up.”

And finally, it did.

⸻

Two months later, I’m sitting courtside at March Madness, rocking my custom “Bueckers’ Biggest Fan” hoodie, while Drew sits beside me, proudly holding a sign that says, “No I’m Bueckers Biggest Fan.”

Some things are just meant to be.

---

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                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[f1daydreamer]

Against All Odds

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Single Mom!Reader

---

How They Met

You never thought you’d cross paths with a world-famous Formula 1 driver, let alone have him become a part of your little world. But life had a funny way of surprising you.

It all started on a rainy afternoon in Monaco. You had just finished grocery shopping with your three-year-old son, Luca, when the sky opened up. Balancing the bags and holding Luca’s tiny hand, you rushed under a café awning to avoid getting soaked. That’s when a voice—deep, slightly accented—spoke beside you.

“You okay?”

You turned to see Max Verstappen, hands stuffed in his Red Bull hoodie, watching you with curiosity. You knew who he was, of course. Even if you weren’t a die-hard fan, his face was everywhere in Monaco.

Luca, being his usual chatty self, beat you to responding. “Mama forgot my umbrella,” he informed Max with a dramatic sigh.

Max chuckled. “That’s tough, buddy. But rain is fun, no?”

Luca grinned. “Only if there are puddles!”

Max nodded in understanding. “Puddles are cool.” Then, he glanced at you, offering a small, almost shy smile. “Need some help?”

---

What started as a simple moment under the rain became something more. Max found himself drawn to you and Luca. He started frequenting the café where you worked, always finding an excuse to chat.

At first, you were hesitant. Your life revolved around your son, and the idea of letting someone in—especially someone with Max’s fast-paced, high-profile life—felt risky. But Max was persistent in the gentlest way. He didn’t rush. He didn’t push. Instead, he simply showed up.

He’d bring Luca small gifts from his travels—a toy car from Japan, a tiny Red Bull racing cap from Austria. He’d take time to play with him, letting Luca “race” his toy cars across the café tables while you worked.

And then, one evening, after walking you both home, he hesitated at your doorstep.

“I know this is a lot,” he admitted. “And I don’t want to overstep. But I— I care about both of you. A lot.”

You looked down at Luca, who was already half-asleep in your arms, his tiny fingers curled around Max’s hoodie string.

“You already feel like family,” you whispered.

Max smiled, brushing a stray raindrop from your cheek. “Then let me prove it.”

---

Max loved Luca as if he were his own. From the moment he truly became part of your lives, he embraced every bit of fatherhood that came with it.

Sunday mornings were for racing—well, toy car racing. Max and Luca would sit on the living room floor, each picking their “team” and dramatically announcing their “drivers.” (Luca always picked Red Bull, of course.)

Bedtime stories became a ritual, with Max reading animatedly about adventures, occasionally slipping in exaggerated Dutch accents to make Luca laugh.

Grocery trips turned into mini racing expeditions, with Luca sitting in the cart, pretending to steer while Max pushed it down the aisles like a pit stop crew.

And when Luca had nightmares? Max was there. Every single time. He’d scoop him up, hold him close, and whisper, “You’re safe, little man. I’ve got you.”

One evening, as you all sat curled up on the couch watching a movie, Luca suddenly turned to Max and asked, “Are you my dad now?”

Your breath caught, but Max, without hesitation, ruffled Luca’s hair and said, “If you want me to be, buddy.”

Luca grinned. “You can be my Max-Dad.”

And just like that, Max’s heart was no longer just his own—it belonged to you and your little boy.

Forever.

-------------------------------------------------------

Hey everyone,

I just wanted to say how sorry I am for that terrible one-shot I posted—if you can even call it that. I know it wasn’t my best, and honestly, I’ve been completely out of inspiration lately. Every time I try to write, my brain just blocks itself, and nothing good comes out.

On top of that, school is draining me. We’re so close to the end, yet our teachers keep throwing test after test and endless projects at us. It’s exhausting, and I barely have the energy to focus on writing.

I really appreciate you all sticking around and being patient with me. I promise I’ll be back with better content when I can! Thank you for understanding.

[neeeooon]

Hii (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

I absolutely loved the part 2 of the when they found out they had a kid, and I was wondering, is it possible for you to make a one shot, perhaps a continuation/2nd part for Reo? Like if he tells his current wife about it or not. And what the child feels about him. It's ok if you don't want to I'm just thirsty for Reo content lol. Thank you very much!

YESSS i was so happy to see this req lmao i didn’t think u guys would like those posts SO THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST!! <3

the past becomes the present

ex-husband/baby-daddy reo! & fem!reader. continuation of reo’s part in this post. reo has a wife and kids. most characters have names

“did you know who i was at the doctor’s office?” reo’s wife, kaori, asked in a trembling voice. she knew her husband was married before, but it was brief and left him heartbroken.

you sank further into your chair under her scrutinizing gaze. there was no doubt in your mind that she was better suited for this life than you. “i didn’t. i knew reo got married again, but i always avoided those photos and articles… i didn’t know until i saw his number on your card.”

when reo hit you with the “i want partial custody,” you’d panicked, thinking he’d use his big, fancy lawyers to force you to submit. though you’d taken the bribe from his parents all those years ago, you put most of it into a sealed account for your son to open when he became an adult. there was only enough for living expenses and things that would give your son a comfortable life, not to blow on expensive lawyers.

“y/n,” reo’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked up to see something sparkling in his violet eyes. grief? hurt? disgust? you didn’t know, but all three were warranted. “i’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t talk to me about this back then.”

both kaori and you sat up straight in your chairs. “huh?”

“when my parents offered you that deal, when you ran, i should have looked for you to see why you left. all i did was listen to their lies. i had no idea you were pregnant…” he shot a brief look at his wife before reaching over and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “i wouldn’t change anything, though. i have a new life. i’m happy. but now i know i have a son, and i want us to be a part of his life, too.”

you thought back to the three children playing with your son in the waiting room—reo’s daughters—and felt your throat begin to itch. ducking your head, you focused hard on the little string bracelet your son made for you. “i want that, too.” looking up, you felt warm tears dripping down your cheeks as you stared at your ex-husband and his beautiful wife. “but i don’t want to be replaced. i know sota would be happy with your family, but he’s my son, too. he’s all i have, and i know that you could take him without so much as lifting a finger, but please, don’t take him away from me.”

the raw desperation in your voice sent shivers down both mikage’s spines. kaori looked at her husband, then back at you. “y/n…” she sounded softer this time, like you were one of her daughters in need of comfort. “i would never take your son away from you. he’ll have a place here if he wants it, but you are his mother. you’ll always be his mother.”

you were sobbing into your hands by this point, and kaori gave reo’s hand one last squeeze before getting up from her chair and hurrying around the table to hug your shoulders. “why don’t we have that play date now, hm? my girls and your sota. it will be nice for him to get to know his dad a bit, don’t you think?” you held on tight to your ex’s new wife as you managed a small, yes, through your tears.

☆ 🧸

“wow! you’re really good!” your son, sota, exclaimed, eyes sparking, as he watched reo shoot a goal. the mikage’s had an entire floor of their penthouse dedicated to soccer, and since your son was a fan of the sport, reo offered to teach him some moves.

grinning at the praise, reo plucked the ball from the goal and lightly passed it to his son. “why don’t you try?” they continued playing together, your son’s ecstatic laugh reverberating around the room until the sun had dipped past the horizon. reo asked your son if he wanted to stay for dinner, but sota gave you a look that said “bedtime,” so you promised your ex-husband you’d both be back for lunch.

on the drive home, sora dozing off in the backseat, you quietly asked, “did you have fun today? with the girls?”

he hummed sleepily, and you saw him nodding in your rearview mirror. “they’re nice… mommy?”

“yes, baby?” he hesitated for only a moment, but it was long enough to send your fingers tightening around the wheel. “is mr. mikage my dad?”

during the meeting, kaori and reo mentioned wanting to wait until sota was more familiar with them before breaking the news. even you didn’t think your son would catch on so quick. clearing your throat, you forced a chirpy voice as you asked, “what makes you say that, sweetheart?”

sota’s silence made you anxious. then he sighed. “mrs. takeda at school says i have a handsome smile. mr. mikage has it, too.”

for real? he figured it out over a smile? you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. instead, you hummed lightly, trying to remain calm for him. “if he was, how would that make you feel?”

“awesome! mr. mikage is so cool! and ms. kaori and kumi and the twins, too! but they’re not as cool as you, mommy.” he exclaimed, and you could hear him wiggling around in his car seat.

he fell asleep before you got home, giving you enough silence to contemplate how this was your life. you carefully carried and tucked him into bed when you got home and immediately called reo’s new wife.

“is everything okay?” she asked immediately, to which you replied with a shaky sigh. “he knows. i didn’t confirm, but he knows.” it was her turn to release a slow breath. “and his thoughts?”

“he seems happy. he thinks very highly of your family.” you managed a laugh before pausing. “do we tell reo? i know he wanted to have a sit-down with sota soon…”

kaori hummed on the other line. “you didn’t confirm, right? i’ll tell him that sota suspects so he can change up whatever speech he’s planning.” you both laughed then, and you felt strangely… lighter. like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

“thank you,” you began slowly. “for everything. i don’t… i don’t deserve any of your kindness.”

“you were young and scared, y/n. what reo’s parents did was wrong, but i would never subject an innocent child to such cruelty. and you’re his mother, someone reo once loved, which means you deserve the benefit of the doubt. plus, i need a mom-friend!” your eyes stung once again, but you forced yourself to remain calm as you thanked kaori and wished her goodnight. part of you would always love reo, but you were so eternally grateful that he found happiness with someone as precious as his new wife.

☆ 🧸

you debated whether or not to give reo and sota privacy for when reo officially broke the news, but your son’s firm grip on your shirt was enough for you to stay. the three of you sat on the ground of reo’s office, your legs tight to your chest as you carefully watched your son’s expressions.

“hi, sota,” reo began with a smile. sota looked between the two of you, and you could tell he was growing scared. scooting closer, you wrapped an arm around his small shoulders and pulled him into your side. “you don’t have to be nervous, baby. we just walk to talk to you about something, that’s all.”

“am i in trouble? are you mad that i said i want you to be my dad?” his bottom lip trembled, wobbling worse when reo’s eyes widened. the man’s mouth opened and closed several times before he finally said, “y-you want that?”

you hugged your son when you felt his breathing speed up. “you’re not in trouble, baby! i promise.”

“he looks mad…”

“i’m not mad,” reo managed in the softest voice he could muster. you knew him well enough to know he was fighting back tears. “i just… i know you only met me recently, but i want to be your dad, too.”

your son’s face lit up. “really?!”

“really.”

“and kumi and the twins can be my sisters?!”

reo was chuckling now. “yes, they’re your sisters.”

“but,” sota paused now to look up at you. “ms. kaori is nice, but i want mommy to be my mommy.” you sucked in a shaky breath and squeezed sota into your side. “oh, baby. don’t worry about that; i’m not going anywhere.”

sota asked to play with his new little sister’s after that, and you watched the four kids run circles around a laughing kaori as she baked cookies for them. “he’s a good kid, y/n.” reo said at your side, and you rubbed your arm with a smile. “you did well.” he didn’t hug you, but you felt engulfed by his words.

blinking back tears, you turned and gave him a small nod. “thank you, reo.”

this is so long but it was SO fun!! reo and reader don't end up together, but i wasn't going to break his family up ❤️‍🩹

[just1cefor4ll]

— 12 reasons why I wanted to leave, 1 reason why I stayed

Joost Klein x gn!reader

warning. ‼️heavy themes like suicide, abuse, alcoholism, death, bullying ect., swearing,not proof read ‼️

A/N. this is based on 13 reasons why and very slightly on anonymously yours. if you want to be added to the taglist for this fic then dm me, comment under this or ask in ‘requests’.

part 1 || part 2

Joost was getting ready to perform, chatting with his friends about how excited they were to go out afterward and finally have some time for themselves.

It was a night like any other—hundreds of fans packed into the venue with their phones out, or in some cases, holding up the most random devices Joost would definitely want footage from later. The stage lights were blinding, but the energy in the room was unlike any other, the kind of night that would be impossible to forget.

However one fan, in particular, stood out. They were right at the barricade, leaning against it, phone nowhere in sight. Unlike the rest of the crowd, they weren’t singing along, weren’t screaming—just watching him with quiet admiration. A few people around them threw curious glances, but they didn’t seem to care.

Joost, too caught up in the performance, didn’t notice them at first. But as the Europapa outro played, his gaze drifted over the crowd—and there they were. Their eyes met, and he stared, intrigued. He was used to fans buzzing with energy, shouting every lyric, but you? You were different.

Once the night ended, he saw you standing there as others made their way out— while you were just standing there in thought. You decided to leave a few minutes after, shoving through crowds and outside into the night. ‘How strange.’ Joost thought to himself but didn’t think too much about it, everyone enjoyed music in their own unique way and he wasn’t one to judge. And so he forgot about you— at least for a good while.

That night a letter had been delivered to him. He had an adress fans could send fan mail to and he loved recieving them. They always made his day and had a lot of the things he got somewhere on display or safely kept in a drawer he’d never throw away. But this letter.. it was strange.

In neatly written letters, the words ‘For Joost Klein, 13 reasons.’

13 reasons.. what could that possibly mean? He had re-read the 2 words about a hundred times before curiosity had gotten the best of him and ripped the envelope open.

—February 14th 2025

Joost,

I don’t know if you’ll actually read this. Maybe you’ll read the first few words, get a weird feeling in your gut, and throw it away. I wouldn’t blame you. It’s easier to ignore things that make us uncomfortable.

But in case you do read it, then I just want to let you know this letter is simply to let things out. I’ll stay anonymous, I don’t want you to find me but I want you to know my story. Why my story of all the hundreds others you could know? I’m not sure. Did anyone ever write this type of letter to you before?

Well to get to the point— here’s reason number 1. (You’ll figure out what I mean later.)

High school was pure hell to say the least. I mean, other than the typical grouping of people (You know, popular kids, nerds.. the weirdo’s..)

It started with rumors after I transferred from my old school because my dad wanted to live closer to family and get back into the city. The rumours were stupid— the kind that spread before you even realize they exist. I was a slut, apparently. A whore from the next town over. I lost count of how many people whispered about me, laughed behind my back, called me names to my face.

The worst part wasn’t the people saying it. It was the people who pretended not to hear. The friends who suddenly weren’t my friends anymore. The teachers who saw what was happening and did nothing.

I tried to ask for help. Once. I sat in an office, across from someone who was supposed to fix things, and I begged them to make it stop. They nodded, they smiled, they promised—then they sent me back to class like nothing had happened.

And this is gonna sound a bit weird— I mean I could care less you don’t know who I am— but that made the first crack in my soul. I was left broken to piece myself back together.

—Yours truly, anonymous.

The letter had kept him up all night—who could’ve known that one of his fans, someone who had stood in the same crowd as hundreds of others, carried something this heavy?

Joost read it over and over, each word digging deeper into his chest. What did you mean ‘you’ll find out later’? What did you mean reason one? Reason’s for what? The weight of it settled in his bones, making sleep impossible. He tried to brush it off, tell himself it wasn’t his problem, that he couldn’t save everyone. But the truth was, he wanted to know who had written it.

He thought back on any weird encounters he had— if he had seen anyone in his neighbourhood who was out of the ordinary but no— nothing came to mind.

And so he waited for the next letter. One day, two days.. a week. Nothing. Nothing came into the mail and he felt worried. Did something happen? Were you okay? He didn’t know you— only that you were deeply hurt and decided to entrust someone with your problems and you just disappeared. That was never good. Disappearing.. it was dangerous and he tried to watch out for any mentions of suicide on the news but surprisingly, 12 days after the first note, another one came. He opened it as fast as he could manage and sped through the letter, the way you expressed your hurt and sorrow.. it was unlike any other.

—February 26th 2025

Dear Joost,

It’s me again! Anonymous. I saw your show this weekend and it was quite the performance. It may seem stalker-ish but I’ve been going to almost every single concert you’ve had so far during this Europapa tour— I simply can’t get enough! :)

Well, to not bother you too much— although the content of this letter is heavy enough.. here’s reason number 2.

My mother died not long after I graduated.

It wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t some tragic accident. It was the kind of death that creeps up slowly, stretching itself out over months, maybe years, until one day you realize the person you love isn’t coming back. I remember watching her get weaker, how her voice got softer, how she started forgetting things—little things at first, then big things, like my name.

And then she was gone.

I was left with a father who didn’t know how to grieve and a house that felt like a tomb. People said all the usual things— “I’m so sorry for your loss, she’s in a better place, let me know if you need anything.” They said them like changed the fact that my world had just ended.

After my mother died, my father started drinking. A little at first. Then a lot. Then so much that I stopped recognizing the person sitting across from me at dinner.

He was angry all the time. At me, at himself, at the world. It didn’t take much to set him off. A wrong look. A wrong word. A wrong breath. And then it was yelling, slamming doors, broken glass.

I told myself it wasn’t that bad. That as long as I stayed quiet, as long as I stayed out of his way, I’d be fine.

I wasn’t.

I confronted him once. Told him I was tired of being scared in my own home. That I couldn’t keep pretending things were okay. That he wasn’t okay.

He just stared at me, silent. Then he got up and walked away.

A few nights later, I found him dead— he had taken his own life and left a letter about how sorry he was and how i’ll be better off without him. He rather kill himself than work on his issues and be there for his child. Was I that much of a failure to him? Was I not worth the struggle? Guess not.

I guess that’s why I’ve always related to you as a person and a fan. I know you lost your parents too. And even though I don’t know you, and you sure as hell don’t know me, it made me feel less alone. And I guess that pushed me to not give up, at least not so easily.

—Anonymous

This letter made him feel something different. Was it anger? Confusion? Maybe both. He had questions— a lot of them.. and so he decided to write back. You had be bringing the letters yourself, it didn’t have his address nor anything to indicate this was sent and delivered by a postman and so he hoped you’d find it the next time you’d come around.

He quickly scrambled to find a paper and pen, but as soon as he sat down to write something.. he couldn’t find the words.

What could he say that wasn’t said to you a thousand times already? ‘I’m sorry this is happening.’ ‘It will get better.’ No. Those would be empty promises he couldn’t actually keep.. and so he thought— though for hours until he just grabbed the pen and wrote until there was no more space on the white sheet of paper.

He was nervous to actually put it in his mailbox. What if you stopped writing? He was probably your only hope and so he couldn’t afford to mess this up. The time ticked by and soon the clock strikes midnight, and the time came for him to finally put it into the mailbox where you’d hopefully find it and take the advice and things he had to say to heart.. or at least thought about them. He hoped for the best, for your well being even though he didn’t know you a single bit— how could he wish you anything else? You poured your heart out to him, you chose to do so and he felt some sort of pride in his chest bubble up because it was like he had succeeded in something. Something big. He hoped you thought so too.

—February 26th 2025

Dear anonymous,

I hope you’re doing okay

How have you been?

As you can probably tell, I’m struggling to find the right words to start this letter— but I guess this is the best I’ll do.

There hasn’t been a single night where I haven’t thought about you. About whether you’re still here. About how much of this weight you’re still carrying. I don’t know if you expect me to respond, if you even want me to, but I have to. Because I can’t read what you wrote and just pretend it’s nothing.

I keep thinking about that. About the fact that, despite everything, you’re still here. That after all the shit life has thrown at you—every loss, every time you were kicked down and left to pick up the pieces alone, every night you spent staring at the ceiling wondering if it was even worth it—you’re still breathing.

I don’t know who you are, but I know you’ve been hurting for a long time. I know you’ve been carrying this alone, and I know how heavy that gets. I know what it’s like to walk around with so much pain inside you that it feels like it’s carved into your ribs. Like no matter what you do, no matter how much time passes, it’s always there. And the worst part? The fact that no one ever really sees it.

People look at you and see whatever version of you they want. They see the person who keeps showing up, who keeps moving forward, and they assume that means you’re okay. That you must be fine because you haven’t completely fallen apart. They don’t see the exhaustion in your bones. They don’t see the nights where it physically hurts to be alive. They don’t see how goddamn hard it is just to exist some days.

And after a while, you start to believe it too. That maybe this is just how it is. That maybe you’re just meant to carry this alone, because no one’s ever really noticed enough to do anything else.

But I notice. I notice because I’ve been there. Because I know what it’s like to be drowning and have the world keep moving like nothing’s wrong. I know what it’s like to lose people and realize too late that you were never ready to live without them. I know what it’s like to be so goddamn tired of everything—of the weight, of the silence, of the pretending—that giving up starts to feel like the only option that makes sense.

But you haven’t.

I’m not going to give you some empty speech about how things get better. I’m not going to sit here and tell you that everything happens for a reason, or that the pain you’ve felt will magically fade. That would be bullshit. We both know it doesn’t work that way.

You are not alone in this. Not anymore. Because I see you. And I’m here.

—Yours truly, Joost. :)

You couldn’t stop the tears from slipping down your face, no matter how hard you tried to hold them back. The way he put everything into words—your feelings, your pain—it was almost terrifying. It was like, for a moment, he had stepped inside your mind, like he had lived through every dark thought, every lonely night, every moment where you felt like there was nothing left.

It was almost as if, just for a little while, you had switched places. As if he had carried your pain for you, held it in his hands and understood it in a way no one else ever had. And then, just as quickly, you were yanked back into your own reality, into this life that felt more like a prison than anything else.

You gripped the paper tightly, reading over his words again and again, as if searching for some hidden meaning, something that might make this feel less real. But it was real. He had written this. He had seen you, even without knowing your name, without ever meeting you.

And that terrified you.

He understood— someone who was never in your same exact shoes before understood.. you weren’t invisible anymore, not to Joost at least. Maybe you weren’t as alone as you had convinced yourself you were.

And maybe—just maybe—there was still a reason to keep going.

© just1cefor4all— I don’t consent to my writing being reposted to other platforms or fed into AI. Translating it is also strictly prohibited. 🚫

[demigod-shenanigans]

Apologies for the rambles ahead Star Wars was my first proper fandom I ever wrote fanfic for, I was obsessed with it for years so I had a lot of thoughts here LMAO

So, this is never specifically mentioned because we get very little info on New Rome in general, but a part of me does wonder if they have a movie theatre. Demigods aren’t able to use phones and computers and whatever for plot convenience reasons but I don’t think that’s the case with regular non-communication technology, especially considering Leo specifically has a huge game station and sound system in his CHB room.

So there’s no reason why New Rome wouldn’t have a cinema.

No idea in what context Jason ever thought to take a break long enough to actually watch Star Wars, but I’m very fond of the idea that him and Reyna watched the movies together (1-6 because no one can convince me these kids would watch anything out of chronological order willingly)

Leo saw them 4-6 and then 1-3 because his mom told him that’s the only correct way to watch them and he still stands by this.

Piper thinks them arguing about this is stupid and that either way works which just means now they’re also arguing with her because clearly she’s incorrect (she probably decides to just come up with a completely random order to watch all the movies out of spite just to annoy them LOL)

Between the four of them, she’s also the only one who knows the TV shows exist—Leo hasn’t been keeping up with Star Wars super closely since his mom died and Reyna and Jason definitely didn’t take enough breaks to watch several seasons of TCW or Rebels (this is confusing as hell, when exactly are we in the Star Wars release timeline canonically the way time passes in pjo-verse is a mess)

Anyway, Piper literally couldn’t escape knowing the shows existed if she tried considering her dad works in the industry and probably at least knew people who worked in them even if he was never offered/never took up a role himself

If she did watch any of the shows she had a perfectly normal entirely heterosexual obsession with Ahsoka Tano and/or Sabine Wren growing up tho.

Aaaand now I’m thinking about them all watching Star Wars together. Leo hasn’t seen it in years because it was too painful to do without his mom but he deffo had a crush on Luke Skywalker and Piper teases the shit out of him over his baby queer crush being a blonde-ish sword fighter

Jason is the one who insists they sit through all of the shows tho. He learns the shows exist and gets stars in his eyes and once he realizes he’s actually allowed free time to do fun stuff with his friends? Oh they’re never gonna be free of this now. They feel so comforting and familiar and he’s probably also sort of remembering Reyna so there’s always this warm feeling in his chest when it comes to this even if he can’t tell why exactly. Leo enjoys it but is definitely not as into it as Jason is. However. Jason is excited and rambling and Leo loves that so much. I think Leo gets most excited about the droids and the ships and just the technology in general, he loves thinking through how these things could actually work (do not let the guy make a functional lightsaber that would end terribly for everyone involved)

Also thinking very fondly about Leo and Jason playing LEGO Star Wars together I think they’d have a great time

Also Jason and Reyna starting to become friends again and watching the movies together for the first time in forever…

Every time Nico and/or Leo need Will or Jason distracted for some reason they’ll just put them in a room together and bring up Star Wars. Leo jokes at one point that they could probably go on a whole quest in the meantime and their boyfriends wouldn’t even notice they left

I’m sorry why in the world does poor Jason not remember his own age or last name but know who Darth Vader is

[lulumanic]

finally got rdr2 i'm so excited to play it

[spinnysocks]

vita shows me a stick :]

[robindaydream]

He's catching me up on the characters and story arcs

artfight attack of Ugly Finder (featuring Daydream) for @bananasmores

[sleepy-crypt1d]

going a little insane thinking about that one echo in moxxi's heist that's jack calling his mom on mother's day- a call she very much does not answer- and how much the sadness in his voice when saying goodbye says about him

[iamnotlookingidonotseeit]

fascinating revelations out of my dad's professional coaching of the whole family today

my mom scored astonishingly high on empathy and caring for a woman who seemed to find it next to impossible to express that to me

my dad has done an insane amount of work to be so warm and personable considering that his natural inclination is towards strong reserve rooted in anxiety (just like me!!)

my sister shocked - SHOCKED 🙄 - to learn that she scores almost zero in empathy AND very high on manipulation

actually shocking reveal that my sister always knew she was my mom's favorite. like I kind of assumed she was mean to both of us but apparently most of the biting comments were for me

[mer-se]

lil hiatus away

[milo-is-rambling]

I can’t even imagine living without anxiety. Like. How. What?

[zannolin]

(re-ish)watching ncis in 2023 is like came for the murder and crime solving, stayed for the absolutely unhinged tiva plotline

[todayisafridaynight]

Hey so Snap this is going to be so fucking weird, but honestly don’t care. So I was watching a clip of Drag Race Philippines and it was the make over episode and I think they were making over family members and this father was all about getting into drag. So, I just wanted to tell you never forget how much of a lovely loving kind and caring father you have, who loves you and protects you and makes you feel heard. That’s all.

i'd have to die before i forget how great my dad is thank you for the opportunity to brag about him again anon

[depressedstressedlemonzest]

Poor bae is playing all by himself.

Oh shit the donkey guy knows who bae is which means...

Yup here comes daddy rumple.

Look at him in his pimp robe.

Fuck bae looks terrified for the donkey guy.

It's okay nothing to see here dad I'm totally fine.

what, is that? A scraped knee?

DEATH BE UPON YEE SNAIL

Guess that wasn't a euphemism with regina earlier.

OH MY GOD MR. GOLD HAS BAELFIRE'S TOY BALL IN THE PAWN SHOP.

Poor bae.